Miss Ashley (carbonpaper) wrote in monkeesfic,
Miss Ashley

Don't Judge Me So Harsh Little Girl (8/10 + epilogue)

Title: Don't Judge Me So Harsh Little Girl
Author: Ash
Rating: PG-13 and R
Summary: It's 1975 and Micky Dolenz is divorced and living the party life. Rita is a young woman on the L.A. scene. When the two meet, their lives are forever changed...
Warnings: Implied Sexual Content (Het)
Genre: Real-Life
Pairing: Micky/OFC
Notes: The title of the story is from a song by Tori Amos called "Playboy Mommy," in case any were wondering. There may be some historical inaccuracies in this work of fiction in either general, or in Micky Dolenz history. I apologize for them.

Part 8

I was able to go home from the hospital the same day. Micky took me back, along with Jackie who was more worried about me than ever and watched to play nurse, and Ami; she was staying a few days as Samantha and Micky had previously arranged. I was laid up in bed about a day and a half before I had enough strength to simply walk around the house, and I wasn’t to lift anything, so I pretty much had nothing to do. Jackie stayed on taking care of me when Micky wasn’t until she had to go back to work. By this time, it was once again Micky and I alone; having Ami around was a joint joy and a curse; a constant reminder for me of what I wouldn’t have. Sometimes when Micky brought me something to eat, she would accompany him and they’d spend time in the bedroom with me, Ami asking me cute little questions and getting to know each other. But now it was only the two of us, and a dark cloud loomed over us.

Micky took the miscarriage harder than I had expected, his face seemed to age in a few days and he was almost constantly a picture of grief when he wasn’t hiding behind his humor. At night, we’d lay together tightly and he’d rest his head on my abdomen, stroking it, sometimes even crying with me. It was only when he was around that I felt emotional, looking at the father of my child and the memories would flood back. I questioned myself constantly- why had it happened to me? What had I done? I poured my soul into writing my thoughts down on paper, never repressing them. Micky, however, seemed more lost than ever.

A week after the incident, I came down the stairs after opening up the bedroom and getting dressed. My old clothes fit again and I was in a fairly nice mood, all things considered. I turned the corner to find Micky alone on the living room couch, bottle of half empty scotch in hand. It was only a little after noon. I wrinkled my forehead in disgust as I approached him.

“Hey Rita baby!” he exclaimed and stood up with a slight stumble. He planted a wet sloppy kiss on me and I could taste the alcohol on him. My word, I thought, he’s already hammered! I attempted to take the bottle from him but he resisted, “Don’t do that.”

“Have you had any breakfast?” I asked walking into the kitchen.

Micky followed and shrugged, slamming the bottle on the countertop, “What does it matter?”

I sighed noisily, “Micky, what are you doing?” I stopped hunting the cupboards and looked straight at him, arms folded across my chest.

“It’s just a drink Rita, relax,” he replied starting to walk away.

I followed, “It is not just one drink! And it’s only the afternoon anyway. I’m worried about you.”

Micky turned on me, his eyes suddenly angry, “You worried about me, that’s a laugh! Need I remind you we’re not even a real couple; I got you knocked up!”

I was hurt but grabbed his arm to make him look at me, “Is that how you really feel about me? What about all the things you’ve said…”

“I miss her,” Micky said bypassing my question. I knew he meant Samantha and this cut even more deeply. Jealousy brewed in my heart.

“She’s not coming back Micky, so you may as well get used to it.”
Now he looked furious. Micky grabbed both my arms and pulled me to him, his face inches from mine, “Don’t ever talk about her again, you don’t know her! Anyway what have you ever given me but more grief, more pain…”

Tears now streamed down my face in rage, “You bastard, how can you say that?! I thought we had something, I thought…” I pictured that first night in my head as I stared at him in disbelief.

Micky came closer as if to kiss me but than let go and walked away slowly, “Well, you thought wrong.”

That was the last stab to my wounded heart. I walked up to Micky and slapped him across the face, “How dare you? I’m leaving. I can’t take this!” I ran up the stairs as he was left standing there. I slammed the bedroom door behind me and locked it.

I first called a cab to come and pick up me. Than I called the only person I knew of whom I felt I could trust right now- Peter. The phone rang five times before he picked up, as I twirled the telephone cord in my hand nervously.

“Rita, what is it?”

“I need to get out of here. Does that offer still stand?”

“Yeah sure. But what’s going on? Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No I called a cab. I’ll talk to you about it when I get there.”

“Aright… see you then.” I hung up and nodded to myself, confirming I had made the right decision.

As I packed some of my things quickly, I could hear Micky outside the door, knocking softly and called my name, “Rita honey, will you let me in? Please?” I didn’t answer him but kept packing. Eventually, I heard him slump against the wall and sit on the floor.

Half an hour after I had called, I looked out the window and the taxi had arrived. I grabbed my bag, took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door. Micky appeared right away, following my every step.

“Rita, don’t leave me please!” Micky begged as I went downstairs. He stopped at the top as I kept going.

“I don’t know if I’ll be back. I’m going to Peter’s.” I told him. I looked back once more before opening the door.

“Fine go! Damn whore…” he muttered the last line just loud enough for me to hear. I sucked in my breath in pain but speedily made my way out the door. I couldn’t look back. I entered the cab and gave him Peter’s address and soon we were off.

I should have seen this coming- after his divorce, Micky had turned to alcohol, so what was to stop him from doing it again when things went sour? But still I couldn’t believe the things he’d said. I thought maybe he hadn’t meant them, but how I could I know? Maybe I was to blame for his depression. I never meant to hurt him; I only wanted to love him. I was so confused I was beginning to get a headache.

It was at least another half an hour before we arrived at Peter’s house. I paid the man with some money Micky’d given me once, and than he drove away. I approached the house and knocked.

Peter answered almost right away and encircled me in a big hug, “Come on in. There’s hardly anyone here today.” I was almost surprised by this statement- in the first days of our relationship, through random conversation, Micky had told me all about Peter’s hippie commune and how people used to be everywhere and swim naked in the pool, doing drugs. But sure enough there were only a few unknowns outside by the pool, mostly scantily clad, and I had no idea who was in the house. Peter took me outside poolside, “So what happened?”

I sat down across from him and set my bag down, “It’s Micky, he’s severely depressed since the miscarriage. He’s been drinking.”

Peter nodded, “And what about you? Are you ok?”

“I’m coping best as I can. But Micky, he seems to have given up! I don’t know what to do; he said some horrible things to me so I just left.”

“It’s a shame, I’m pretty sure he loves you.”

I turned away tears welling, “You don’t know that.”

Peter reached for my hand, “Hey, it’ll be ok. Micky says a lot of things spur of the moment even when he’s not drunk, let alone when he is. He doesn’t mean them. He’ll come around.”

“Thanks Peter,” I said and reached out for a hug again.

I hung around the rest of the day, sometimes talking to others there but mostly just sticking with Peter. We ended up in the living room for hours, where we chatted about relationships and love. I had no idea Peter was married twice now, in fact his wife was pregnant. We looked at a few pictures and I tried to hold back my enthusiasm about his first wife Reine and their gorgeous little girl. I personally had never really been in love before Micky, in fact, I was quite sure I hadn’t. I’d had a few boyfriends, never anything serious. It was interesting to suddenly be thrust into the situation I now was.

When night came, Micky still hadn’t called or came for me. I tried to ignore it and get in on the party which was now starting. I mingled a bit with many famous people Peter knew, sticking close by him. But I was tired from stress and I think he could see it on my face.

“Ready to call it a night?” Peter asked as we finished our drinks by the pool. I watched someone dive naked into the pool before answering.

“Yeah,” I replied. Peter motioned me towards the house as we set our empty glasses on a nearby table.

The house was mostly dark by now, couples or more in just about every nook and cranny. I tried to ignore it all as we headed down the hallway. Peter opened a door near the back, “This is my room. I’m pretty sure all the others are occupied.” He smiled as I walked in and closed the door behind us. It was beautifully furnished with a large bed in the middle which was now welcoming me. I dropped my bag next to the bed before sitting down. It felt really soft and comfortable.

“You can go back if you want,” I said as Peter came over and I inched onto the mattress.

He sat down next to me, “It’s ok, I’d rather keep you company.” Peter nonchalantly removed his shirt before lying down. I lay next to him, on my back, still in my clothes. He rolled on his side and stared at me. I rolled to face him, making myself more comfortable and began to close my eyes. Just before I drifted off, I felt a touch. I opened my eyes and Peter had his hand on my cheek. He than reached up and ran a hand through my hair. I just stared, unsure of what to do.

Swiftly, Peter was above me and I rolled onto my back to face him. He kissed me ardently on the lips, and then quickly moved to my neck. I tried to stifle a moan; I was vulnerable and at his mercy. I needed this. I breathed more heavily as Peter reached for my shirt and slowly pulled it off, revealing my bra. He did the same with my jeans and soon I was only in my underwear. But it felt so good! His hands were roaming every part of me and his lips caressed me. It felt like a daydream.

Peter sat up again and started for his pants. As he began to undo them I bit my lip. Guilt filled my mind and Micky’s words echoed; ‘Whore.’ I reached up and grabbed Peter’s hand, “I… I can’t Peter.” We were both breathing like mad but he could see in my eyes I was being serious. Peter sighed loudly and buttoned his pants again, lying on his back next to me. I sat up and grabbed my t-shirt from the floor and put it back on. I then moved closer to Peter on my side, “I’m sorry.”

He turned and looked at me, “It’s fine. I shouldn’t be so stupid.” He kissed my forehead, “Want to sleep?” I nodded and we got up, pulled back the bed covers and went in. I curled up to Peter for comfort and soon was asleep.

It had been a late night so I was stunned the next day when there was a rapping on the bedroom door soon after sunrise. Peter got up to answer it.

“Micky is at the door,” the person informed us. Peter looked back at me and I quickly got up, threw my clothes back on, and exited with him.

Micky was feverishly tapping his foot in the living room. When he saw us coming, he ran to me and held me to him tightly, “Rita, God I’m so sorry!” I relaxed a little and let him hold me. He than looked into my eyes, “Baby, I was an ass. I didn’t mean it. Please come home?”

I broke away and looked back at Peter, who had already gotten my bag. I smiled as I went to him, “I’m sorry.”

“Go,” Peter insisted, “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for everything!” I exclaimed hugging him. I then went over to Micky and gave him a reassured kiss before we headed out the door.

On the drive home, Micky refused to let go of my hand and kept apologizing, to which I forgave him. Then, quite abruptly, he pulled the car alongside the road. There was no one in sight for miles.

“What are you doing?: I asked as he turned off the engine.

Micky turned to me with a mischievous grin, “I couldn’t wait till we get home.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a ring, “Rita, would you do me the honor… will you marry me?”

I squealed in delight and hugged him, “Yes, of God yes!” He put it on my finger and we kissed.

Micky than looked behind him at the backseat, “You fancy it?” He wriggled his eyebrows.

I giggled and started back, “There’s a first time for everything.”

And I meant that in more ways than one.

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven

Yes, unfortunately, I will be bringing this fanfic to an end soon. But I shall try to write another of some kind if I can :D
Tags: author: imagine_peace

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